


That's What Friends Are For

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: T'Pol goes into Pon Farr and relies on a friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Her hand trembled, shaking, with a determination of its own and sweat pooled around her neck, back, shoulders, hairline and underarms. As she closed her eyes the only thoughts that would come to her were of Vulcan’s volcanoes – the magma scorching the surface of the planet in one fiery eruption after another.

_Meditation will not come_ , she thought.

It had not come yesterday or the day before either.

Darker thoughts, fantasies, willed themselves to her brain. Steamy ideas about being taken – maybe even forcefully so – by a lover, to feel his sweat cover her body and his lips ravage hers. There was a need so deep, a thirst, that it could not be quenched or satisfied. And for a moment she thought she would die of it – her lips parched and her body moist, slick with perspiration.

Weak, a pant huffed from her lips.

_I am an inferno._

A chime rang out and her eyes barely focused on the door in front of her. Someone wanted entry. Trying to muster up a scintilla of logic and control – something she’d need to converse with her shipmates, she heard a chime again and a voice speak through the door.

“T’Pol?”

It was a man, her captain. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.

He said, “Phlox told me your symptoms.”

During her most logical hours, the ones leading up to this morning, she’d considered several options, including contacting a Vulcan ship or going home. But her planet was two days away and the nearest Vulcan ship, the Savan, was three days even at warp five. Death would blanket her before she could make either in time.

Other options had sprung to her mind.

She could go to a lover she had once taken, Trip. And yet even in her hazy mind, with the fever welling inside her, she knew it _that_ would be wrong. The two had created a loose friendship after Elizabeth died; to ask him for his help now would be unconscionable. Undoubtedly he’d become confused and distraught again. She could not ask Trip, and would perish before hurting him again.

There were two friends left who she trusted with this unsavory task, two men who may understand the circumstances: her doctor and captain. And thinking of one of them made her _burn_.

“Open the door,” Jonathan said.

“I should not,” she barely whispered.

“Then I’m entering my code.”

T’Pol looked behind her, almost afraid of what her captain, her friend, would think of her abode. In frustration and bedlam, she’d nearly crushed her monitor, ripped at the sheets of her bunk, and knocked over her chair, nearly shattering it. The second she took a step to at least right the furniture, as if it would make her cabin habitable, the door swished open.

Instead of dressed in his uniform, he wore gray sweats, almost as if he’d anticipated what she’d be asking for. He stepped in, as if dipping his toe into a cold pool of water to test the temperature.

“Leave me,” she said. It was a growl.

Staying close to the opposite wall, he entered, hoisting a duffle bag higher on his shoulder, and closed the door behind him.

“Phlox told me what the symptoms are. You’re in Pon Farr.”

He said the word like a Vulcan might, something that even in her crazed state, surprised her. More than that, the words he spoke with soothing, as if trying to coax a selhat away from its meal.

“You should not know about these things.”

“Surak left a few memories behind.” Tentatively, he took a step toward her. “I know what you need.”

“Get out!”

Putting his duffle bag down to his side, he spoke softly. “On Vulcan during Pon Farr, your species agrees to provide assistance to each other.”

She quieted. The urge to shove him out the door and beg him to run for his life was being supplanted by the one that wanted to push him to the bed and rip at his clothing.

“T’hy’la, I can’t allow you to die,” he said. Holding up two fingers, his index and middle, into the air, he waited for a response.

“I tried contacting a Vulcan.” The sound was raspy.

“I know,” he whispered.

“I cannot turn to Trip.”

He sighed. “I know that, too.”

Biting her lower lip, something she’d seen humans do, she gazed into his eyes. “I may hurt you.”

Taking a step forward, timidly, she rubbed her fingers against his.

“I snuck into Sickbay and took some restraints,” he said. “We can use them if things become dire.”

“Phlox did not tell you my condition?”

“No.” Running his fingers along her neck, he reassured her.

“Phlox will know who helped me.”

“Well, I’ll probably be away from the Bridge for long periods of time.” He shrugged. “He’s a smart man. He’ll probably figure it out, but I doubt he’d tell anyone, if that’s a concern to you.”

“No.”

“Good.” He smiled.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he pressed his lips to hers. It was a tender embrace, and his lips connected to his felt like water on her parched mouth. Her body quivered and her hands clutched his shoulders, feeling the cloth that she longed to tear from him. But, before the madness strangled her mind, she spoke quietly and with awe.

“Thank you.”

He looked down at her face, brushing away a lock of hair. Compassion covered his features and reflected in his eyes.

“You’d do the same for me.”

With that, T’Pol pulled him into her bed.

\---

The man could barely lift his head. His body ached and throbbed, and yet the soreness felt good. Marvelous. Exquisite. Muscles in his back, arms and legs had been spent, but he’d achieved a satiety he hadn’t experienced in years … decades.

He struggled to fall at her side, when he noticed her intent gaze. It made him smile.

“You feel better?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She shivered and with whatever remaining strength he had, he brought her to his body and snuggled the covers around her. Easily and without much cajoling, she cuddled her face onto his chest and he kissed her head.

Letting out a lazy sigh, he stared at the ceiling. A whimsical thought bubbled to the surface, and he bit back a grin.

“What is so amusing?” she asked.

There was a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

“Sorry, I was just thinking ….” Fear had smacked itself onto her face as she lifted her head, deeply afraid what she’d done would be a source of embarrassment, so he continued. “I was just thinking how great that was.”

Confusion spread across her face.

“I mean, I thought it would just be a frenzy. Something out of control. That was ….”

Satisfied with his answer, she placed her cheek back on his chest. “It _was_.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and relished the afterglow. Just as he’d almost drifted to sleep, he felt her poke a stinging spot on his clavicle. Looking down, he noticed a bruise, and it had siblings forming all over his chest and arms. He could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

“You should’ve used the restraints,” she said.

“It’s okay.”

Smoothing over her hair, hoping to indicate everything would be just fine, he breathed deeply.

“Jonathan?” she asked.

The word seemed almost foreign. Although he hadn’t expected her to call him by his title, hearing her speak his first name felt almost more intimate than what they’d just done.

“May I call you that?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“My body will call to you many times during the next several days.”

“I know.”

She pushed herself from his flesh and placed her cheek on the pillow, so he turned to meet her gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have learned from Trip that humans often times develop feelings after a physical union. We will engage in one many times over, which may ….”

“You’re worried about me?” he asked.

“We’ve been friends a long time. I know you are very selective about your … mating practices and partners.”

He gave a slight guffaw. “Well, this is going to sound crude, but humans also have the notion of friends who sleep with each other.”

“Oh?”

He hadn’t anticipated providing her his sexual history, but thought he might alleviate her concern and address the issue by mentioning Erika.

“I’ve slept with women who were just friends.”

“I see.”

“So, you don’t need to worry about my feelings.”

“I _was_ worried. I care about you and know sometimes you suppress your emotions–”

“We seem to have a lot in common there,” he said, smiling. “And, I care about you, too.”

“Let’s not over-complicate things.”

Nodding, she agreed. “I am fortunate to have you as my first Pon Farr partner, t’hy’la.”

“I’m lucky to have you as mine as well.”

The notion caused a twinkle in T’Pol’s eyes and without kissing or caressing, the two quietly chatted until they fell asleep.

TBC?

 


End file.
